


Thrall Song

by ElementKitsune



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fae, Amnesia, Fae BS, Gen, Haggar is there and a little bit terrifying, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, POV Second Person, Sort Of, everyone uses nicknames because fae
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2017-08-17
Packaged: 2018-12-16 15:34:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11831697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElementKitsune/pseuds/ElementKitsune
Summary: The name is Takashi Shirogane.(that's the first thing you'll forget)ORShiro gets captured by the fae. (It's an experience)





	Thrall Song

The name is Takashi Shirogane.

(that’s the first thing you’ll forget)

* * *

You’re not too sure anymore, how it really started.

You know there was a start though—one of the masters tells you so—when you’ve fought badly and your arm needs to have all the blood cleaned out.

_You did well before you entered my care_ , she’ll say and she’s said. _Don’t be soft, Champion._

It gets tiring to deal with the consequences of being soft, so you try to remember that part.

You get used to forgetting the rest.

* * *

(the beginning’s name was Matthew Holt and he had smiled just like starlight)

* * *

You’re a fighter and a loner, _Champion_ in the arena.

The spectators scream your title and your masters smile at the sound.

_Good job, Champion,_ says the one the others follow. _You continue to entertain._

You might feel a little bit proud, you think, because praise is so rarely offered.

Maybe you just forgot.

* * *

(the first fight’s name was Samuel Holt and he lives as a thrall)

(you refused to kill a man like your father)

(that day, you did not entertain)

* * *

There are others that the masters watch with golden eyes, fighters who have not entered the ring and had no masters of their own.

You think that the masters may want them as additional puppets sometimes, the ones that they watch.

Player. Maker. Sharpshooter. Halfling.

You see them when you leave the arena, eyes always tracking you until you leave their sight.

Halfling and Player are the angry ones.

Maker and Sharpshooter are more sad.

* * *

( _Should I tell you anything?_ Player had asked you once.)

( _They’ll know whatever you say,_ you’d replied.)

(you don’t remember why you cared)

* * *

Avoid the weapon.

Go for the weaker parts.

Use the arm.

You don’t care much for killing, one way or another.

It pleases the masters though.

* * *

( _Sh—Champion!_ called Halfling, and you looked back.)

( _Do I know you?_ you had asked.)

(for some reason the look in his eyes hurt)

* * *

The witch master stalks into the room with golden fae eyes focused on you.

_Do you know any true names?_ she says with a smile, like she’s kind.

—she _is_ , you think. Why are you thinking otherwise?

K—something springs into your head, but it sinks away into the forgetfulness like quicksand.

_I don’t,_ you say, and there’s the twitch of a frown.

_I’ll know if you’re lying,_ she says lightly, but it feels like a threat.

You feel a frown twitching at your own lips, but you keep your face blank. There’s no need for a Champion that _feels_.

_I don’t know,_ you repeat and you don’t feel, you don’t feel.

You don’t feel.

* * *

( _Don’t you remember_ **_anything?_ ** cried Sharpshooter, and you didn’t, and you don’t.)

* * *

Halfling marches up to you like a firestorm, burning and driving away all in his path as Sharpshooter and Maker and Player all follow along with blank expressions.

He looks at _you_ for a moment, purple eyes saying more than anything that he’s fae, until his gaze brushes over you and to the master at your side like expected.

— _Why did he pause?_ you want to think, but that’s not important for a Champion. The thought drains away.

_If my puppet wins the fight,_ says Halfling, like he’s measuring each word, _I will claim Champion._

—Player looks pleased behind him, though your master can’t see them. _Don’t tell_ , she mouths, and you forget.

The master tightens a clawed hand on your shoulder. _Take it up with the witch or the emperor,_ he growls, one eye gleaming menacingly, and then you’re dragged to the next fight.

You don’t look back to where the four of them are standing.

—Do you want to?

* * *

( _Names have power,_ Maker said quietly. _I promise we’ll take care of yours._ )

* * *

The one who will face you is Player.

Player is small and lithe and quick, mischief in their eyes and fingers on a dagger at all times.

Player is the most dangerous of the three as a fighter.

It’s a good thing you’re the Champion.

* * *

( _I’ll bring them back, -----, you know I will. I promise._ )

(what’s the name you can’t remember?)

* * *

Avoid the weapon.

Go for the weaker parts.

Use the arm.

Your face is covered with purple light, and you wonder if Player is afraid.

She should be.

You don’t stop before killing anymore.

* * *

( _We’ll bring you back, Sh---, we won’t let them have you!)_

* * *

Your hand is around her neck, and you wait for any last words.

The masters are often entertained by dying pleas.

Instead, Player curls her tiny hands around yours—doesn’t she know she’ll burn?—and with barely a voice, whispers, _I’m in._

That’s when your arm falls, useless, to your side and you try to grab her with the other, but your own hand stops you.

Your fae-given arm stops you.

_I won’t let you break your promise, Champion._ She smiles. And with that…

You lose.

* * *

( _Fight as my puppet, win all your battles, and, maybe, I’ll let these two go.)_

(you’ve fought and you’ve won and you’ve nothing to show)

* * *

_What need have you for a broken Champion?_ asks the witch master with her venomous smile.

_What need have you to defend him?_ Halfling answers, and you’re somehow sure that he had practiced that line.

—Sharpshooter is muffling laughter.

—If you could be more sure you would be.

Then suddenly, the witch master sighs. _Very well,_ she coos. _Take the toy. But I will take the right for a proper farewell._

Halfling bristles, but Maker brushes against him and he stops. _Very well,_ he spits, and that is something he did not practice.

You close your eyes.

You know what she means by a proper farewell.

* * *

(killing was easier once you forgot how to care)

(would the farewell be the same way?)

* * *

_You were soft on Player,_ says the master, voice cold and even. _We both know you could have won easily._

You will acknowledge that. Player is quick, but not that quick. You could have caught her. And speed isn’t the only way to win a fight.

—why didn’t you? Why did you let yourself lose? _You’re Champion._

Then you realize you’ve thought too long, because the master is standing in front of you, a cruel grin on her face.

_Such a weak Champion,_ she purrs, nails like claws across your face. Across the scar on your nose. _How did you ever fight with such a bleeding heart?_

Her voice is the wind in your ears, storms drowning out the calm. You will not shiver. You are Champion enough for that.

_Be careful with that bleeding heart,_ says the witch master, and runs it right through.

* * *

(you’ve seen too many farewells in your lifetime)

(too many to expect you wouldn’t be another)

* * *

_Wake up, Champion,_ someone tells you, but that’s not the point of farewells. Not what the masters would have allowed you to do.

_They’re not your masters now,_ that same someone growls _._

You don’t open your eyes. You won’t. You can’t.

_For fuck’s sake, Shiro, open your quiznaking eyes!_

They snap open against your will, and there’s Halfling above you, Sharpshooter next to him, and Player and Maker on your other side.

— _What’s happening,_ you want to ask, but the words don’t come out and you shouldn’t question a fae. They will always have a cost.

_Maker, can you lift him?_ Player says quietly, and you’re rising up up up—

_Princess and Sage should know what to do,_ comments Sharpshooter, and they move.

Halfling leads the way, but Player and Sharpshooter are behind Maker and you realize that they’ve put you in the middle of their triangle.

Like you’re something to protect.

Even though you’re just a broken Champion.

* * *

(K---- had been surprisingly quiet when you left, he hadn’t fought you at all)

(H---, L----, P----, none of them had fought you at all)

(you didn’t remember, didn’t know that they’d followed you instead)

* * *

When they reach Princess and Sage, it’s with Sharpshooter’s flirtatious grin and Princess narrowing her too-blue eyes.

She takes one look at you, magic in every step she takes, and bids Maker to bring you inside.

The others don’t dare to cross the doorway, you notice, and then Maker puts you down and leaves as well.

— _Don’t leave,_ you want to cry, but you know better than to disobey a fae.

Princess looks at you, cold like winter fires. She reaches for your chest, and sticks a delicate dark hand into your heart.

—It’s hurting now.

—Why is it hurting now why is it hurting now why is it hurting now please _stop_ —

Princess takes her hand out of your heart, passes it to Sage like it’s precious.

—Why? You’re human.

_Takashi Shirogane,_ Sage reads, almost like it's from a dream, and

you

s h a t t e r

like a diamond when you hit its weak spot.

_You're fractals now,_ you think;

and _My name is Takashi Shirogane_ , you think, _but everyone calls me Shiro_ , you think;

and you're thinking and you're thinking and remembering—

" _Thank you_ ," you tell Allura, and she smiles back at you, wraps you up in a hug that’s a bit too strong.

"We missed you," Coran answers instead, a hand on your shoulder and the other pulling at his mustache.

Then—

"Shiro!" the others call from the door, and your heart's an open wound, because Coran hasn't had the chance to stitch you closed after Allura gave you your name back, but your heart being an open wound means nothing when you have love from six different people to hold it closed.

You hold on to them, with scars and white hair and a fae-given arm, and you think that this is something that you'll refuse to forget.

You don't have to forget anymore.

"We'll get Matt and Dad back, but you're staying with us," Pidge mutters into your neck, and you pat her on the head while trying not to let go of everyone else.

(it's a bit hard when they're hugging you on all sides)

"I know," you tell her. "I'm not leaving again."

* * *

The name is Takashi Shirogane.

(It's the first thing you forgot)

(It's the first thing you'd remembered)


End file.
